Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It took Akaza exactly one week to determine that college wasn’t for him. 

Previously, he had never even considered pursuing his education further than the minimum expectation of high school. Academics had never been his strongest suit and, as far as he had been concerned, his future was set in stone. After graduating to Keizo’s satisfaction, he would work under him and learn how to run the dojo. Once Koyuki finished her own schooling, they would marry; they had promised themselves to one another ages ago and there was never any question about following through. It was only a matter of timing; of allowing everything in their lives to fall into place. Eventually, Keizo would retire and pass ownership of the dojo onto him, and they would all march forward into their hard-earned happily ever after. 

It was funny, wasn’t it? How life’s curveballs could shatter a beautiful future that was right at his fingertips? 

Personally, he never felt the urge to laugh.

When he first moved into the Demon House, he’d been given a grace period of uselessness; a chunk of time where he could settle into his new residence, his new name, his new future without being disturbed. He had been grateful for the opportunity to rest after his life had turned upside down. It took him a couple of weeks to become secure in his own skin, recognize himself as Akaza , and comfortably call the place his home. 

Muzan watched his adjustment process keenly the entire time. Not unlike a hawk circling its prey, he kept a close eye on Akaza, often checking in to see how he was acclimating. He helped to break in his new identity, giving it plenty of exercise by addressing him every time they shared a space. Whether it was hair dye or a new wardrobe, he spared no expense in helping Akaza become Akaza .

Once it seemed that the remains of Soyama Hakuji had finally vanished from the world, however, Muzan brought him into the kitchen for a talk. He sat him down, took hold of either shoulder to ensure that he focused, and spoke as clearly and concisely as he could, leaving no room for deliberation. 

“ You need to get a job or go to school. I refuse to harbor deadweight.”

It was the same ultimatum that had been dished out to Kokushibo before him and every additional resident to come afterward. There was nothing unreasonable about the request; if anything, Akaza had been surprised that it hadn’t come sooner. From the conception of their arrangement, he had understood that he would be relying heavily upon Muzan (who, in turn, relied upon the generosity of his extended family since he was still too young to properly receive his inheritance) and never had any issue with the idea of pulling his own weight. To either get a job or further his education was a very small price to pay for a new lease on life.

He owed everything to Muzan-- his new life was entirely in his hands-- and making himself useful was the very least he could do to start repaying him. 

The only problem was that Akaza had no skills; nothing that he could capitalize on, at least. He’d spent years helping to care for Koyuki during the peak of her illness, but had no official training or licenses to certify his knowledge. Outside of school, he focused mostly on developing his skills as a martial artist and helping to maintain the dojo that he was poised to someday lead. Anything outside of that had seemed so… distant . So unnecessary. That would be his life-- Koyuki and the dojo-- so why worry about outside skills?

This was his own fault for being naive enough to believe in a happy ending for himself.

Initially, he considered trying to find another dojo to work at. He had the skills to be a teacher, if not the experience, and if nothing else, he was familiar with the chores required for upkeep  of that kind of place. Unfortunately, after some research, he discovered that the nearest dojo belonged to the Urokodaki family, and it was already fully staffed. There was nothing Akaza could offer that they didn’t already have. 

So, returning to school it was. 

Choosing a course of study was easy enough. If he wanted to follow his heart and continue down a path that valued strength and protecting others, criminal justice was the only option. He hoped that adopting this form of justice might help him to wash his hands clean of the righteous blood they were stained with, as well. 

If only it wasn't so damn boring . 

No matter the content, school was still school, and it took exactly one class for him to understand that. The moment the professor’s mouth opened, his mind shut off, the droning lecture passing easily from one ear and out the other. He quickly grew restless, his legs bouncing and his eyes darting about the lecture hall, and he found that he was retaining little to none of what was said. It was high school all over again, only this was voluntary . 

He could quit . There was nothing keeping him there outside of Muzan’s ultimatum and there was another way to satisfy it. Though it wouldn’t be ideal, he could find a part time job doing something simple and work his way up from there. At least then he would be somewhat engaged instead of being burdened with the guilt of wasting every precious second of instruction drifting away in his head. It was tempting, and he would have been lying if he claimed not to have considered it. 

The man in his criminology class was the only motivation for him to return. 

When Akaza saw him for the first time, he'd been stunned into silence. Just a couple rows in front of him sat a man whose mane of vibrant flame-colored hair was the first thing to completely hold his attention since classes began. Then when he turned to show his face-- oh , he was sure that his heart stopped! Those vibrant, fiery eyes and that brilliant smile that seemed to give off a light of its own…

Akaza just had to sneak a picture. 

This man hadn’t been there before; of that much, he was absolutely certain. With how much his eyes wandered, there was no way that they hadn’t caught onto his presence. Even if he had managed to overlook him, going that long without hearing him would have been impossible. His voice was loud, booming across the room whenever he asked or answered questions, and he always sounded so enthusiastic about whatever he was saying. Clearly, he was someone who took his studies seriously, so where had he been for the past week!?

Regardless of his past whereabouts, he was finally there and acting as the main force preventing Akaza from dropping everything and falling back on an undetermined plan B. He swore that he never learned as much as he did when that man spoke up. 

He just wished he knew how to speak to the guy. 

Flirting didn’t come naturally to Akaza. He was too blunt, too direct, and had a tendency to say whatever it was he was thinking. Fortunately, such an approach wasn’t needed with Koyuki; they had fallen in love through exposure rather than intentional romantic advancement. When it came to starting from scratch, he hadn’t the slightest inkling of what to do. 

The obvious answer was to ask for help from someone more experienced-- that, alongside personal trial-and-error, were the only ways of obtaining new information-- but it was hardly an option. As he went down his very short list of friends, he realized that there was very little experience to go around. Kokushibo was reserved and rarely left his room, which diminished his social skills to near nothing; Muzan, despite being charismatic and attractive, refused to date; Gyutaro was Gyutaro , and no more needed to be said on the matter. 

It was with a horrible, sinking feeling in his gut that he realized that he had no one else to turn to but him . 

He dreaded it, tried to rationalize a way out of it, but continually came back to the same troubling conclusion. When he returned home that afternoon, he carried the sour taste of displeasure on his tongue, and he was sure that the tension showed on his face. The only way he could justify avoiding the topic was based on the off chance that he wasn’t home…

“ Akaza! Welcome back!”

Damn.

As if mocking his conflicted, self-sabotaging hopes, Doma beamed and greeted him from his spot on the couch with a little wave. 

Akaza had to bite back a sigh. There was no avoiding it, was there? If he wanted to get anywhere, this was a necessary evil; a confrontation he had to bite his tongue and bear for the greater good of his heart and soul. 

If there was anyone in that house who knew how to flirt, it was Doma . 

Rather than respond verbally, Akaza toed off his shoes by the door and walked over to where his roommate lounged. The smile on Doma’s face fell as he came closer, replaced by curiosity; Akaza rarely willingly let himself get within arm’s reach. He swung his legs off of the couch and sat up properly as Akaza moved to sit beside him, his expression toeing the line between bewilderment and enthusiasm. 

From that look alone. Akaza could tell that this was going to be a headache. Hopefully, he would at least gain something from it.

“Can I help you?” Doma prompted, leaning closer into his space. 

Akaza’s jaw clenched. This guy had no sense of personal boundaries…

“...Yeah,” he confessed. Dropping down beside him and dipping would only lead to more questions that he didn’t want to be pestered with; he’d sealed his fate from the moment he walked over. Hands in his lap, he balled up his fists and drew in a deep breath before speaking. 

“Take this seriously, okay?” he started, not in the mood for Doma’s usual brand of nonsense. It was bad enough that he had to turn to him for help; he didn’t need to make a scene out of it. “But… how do you flirt with someone?”

At that, Doma’s eyes lit up and that wide grin blossomed across his face yet again, lighting him up as brightly as if it had never left. "Oh! I never thought I'd see the day you would come to me for advice. How exciting!"

"Don't get a big head over it,” Akaza snapped, trying to cut the ridiculous energy down before it could manifest something insulting. “I'm only coming to you because everyone else in this house is hopeless."

"Hmm…” Doma hummed, feigning thoughtfulness for a moment. There was no arguing against that conclusion; if there was, Akaza would have found a way out of this conversation instead of diving right into it. “Right you are. So!” He clapped his hands together. “Tell me about this person you're trying to flirt with! Do you have a picture?"

Akaza sighed. "Yeah. Here."

He pulled up the picture that he’d taken of that man. It was a decent picture for what it was, that being a sneaky shot taken from a few rows back, and did a good job of framing how captivating the man looked. His vibrant hair, his fiery eyes, his bold grin; all of it was on full display. There were things that a picture alone couldn’t capture, of course-- the way he demanded the attention of the entire room with that booming voice jumped to mind--  but it was enough to get the idea across. 

"Oh, wow!” Doma snatched the phone from Akaza’s hand and held it close to his face, as if he struggled to believe what he was seeing. Before any protest could be made, he looked back at Akaza with that same ridiculous grin and exclaimed that “You don't stand a chance with a guy that hot!"

“Hey!” Akaza’s temper flared. He lunged to grab his phone back, only for the blond bastard to take full advantage of his long limbs and hold it far out of reach. 

This jackass…

“Now, now. Maybe I’m being too harsh,” Doma relented, though he made no move to bring the phone within grabbing distance. Instead, he placed his hand on Akaza’s shoulder and pushed him back into a sitting position, following injury up with an insulting pat on his head. “He’s out of your league by a long shot, but you might still impress him!”

Akaza wanted to lash out-- to snap and bite off the hand that dared to touch him-- but he swallowed his fury down. This audacity was par for the course of dealing with Douma, unfortunately. He knew what he was signing up for when he settled on this approach. To blame Doma for being Doma when he knew very well that he would be Doma was irrational. 

Instead, he drew in a deep breath to settle his bubbling frustration and fixed his roommate with an unamused glare. 

“...How?”

“Well…” Doma trailed off for a moment, pinching his lower lip in thought. He drummed his long nails on Akaza’s phone, the sound growing more grating with every set. Eventually, he beamed once again. “Do you know how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue?”

Akaza blinked. A cherry stem? Is this a joke? But, no; the way Doma looked at him earnestly told him that he was very serious. After staring for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, Akaza shook his head incredulously. “Uh… no?”

“Would you like to learn?” Doma chimed in far too quickly. Far too eagerly. “I can demonstrate!”

Akaza hesitated. On one hand, if a little party trick like that really would be enough to impress him, then it was worth learning; on the other, if Doma was this invested in showing off, then it was probably some sort of perverted prank. After a moment of silent deliberation, he shook his head. “...I’ll pass.”

As Doma’s expression fell and his tongue prepared to say something utterly annoying-- something along the lines of “Aw, are you sure? It’s your loss.” , he was sure-- Akaza jabbed him in the ribs. With a yelp, he dropped the phone, which was quickly collected by its rightful owner. As Akaza stood up to leave, irked and defeated, he heard Doma call after him.

“Wait! I was just messing with you, Akaza! Let me help!”

“Fuck off!” was the only response he received as Akaza marched away, phone in hand, and a frustrated storm swirling under the surface of his soul. 

Idiot . He should have known better than to hope Doma would be any help at all…

He would figure out how to talk to the guy on his own, without Doma’s derogatory expertise. 

Going outside to clear his mind was a habit that Akaza had gotten into upon moving into the house. Most of the inhabitants didn’t spend much time outdoors-- Muzan had to limit his exposure to UV light, Kokushibo rarely left the comfort of his room, Doma occupied himself with other things, Gyutaro worked long days and preferred to relax once at home, Ume didn’t want to risk bug bites and sunburns that could damage her skin-- so it was a small reprieve from the chaos of the house. Oftentimes, his only company out on the back porch was Mother , a tiny white spider who had taken up residence in the corner and decided to lay her eggs there. 

Deeming it an eyesore, Muzan had tried to kill the spider once. 

Once.

Akaza could remember being shocked by just how angry an otherwise stoic boy like Rui could become when provoked. 

So, Mother lived peacefully on their porch, unbothered by the house’s residents. Sometimes, Akaza found comfort in her company and would speak aloud to her about whatever plagued him. He’d sit down in a chair and face her web to pour his heart out, regardless of the fact that he’d never get a verbal response. Even so, he swore that there was something sage in those eight eyes of hers; something that heard him and understood his burden. 

Or maybe he was just as crazy as the boy who pulled out a knife to protect a creature no bigger than his fingernail. Who knew, really? 

But in front of her counsel was where he found himself then, hunched over with his elbows in his lap and his chin resting in his hands. 

“Can you believe that asshole?” he said, lips pursed in an irritable pout. “Telling me that he’s out of my league …”

It was true, of course. He would have to be naive to argue otherwise. Not only was the man physically attractive, but he was captivating in every other way. His presence took over a room and his voice resonated through every cell in Akaza’s body when he spoke. Clearly, he did his homework, and had a good head on his shoulders, as well. He was hot and smart and sociable and Akaza was… 

Well. He was Akaza . He was blunt and restless and prone to displays of aggression when provoked. The two of them were clearly on two different levels. 

But did Doma have to say it like that!?

Sighing, Akaza closed his eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Talking to him seemed hard enough before I had that idea stuck in my head…”

“ Why are you sulking at Mother?”  

Akaza snapped upright as another voice joined him out on the porch. Turning to the door, he watched Rui step outside, barefoot, with a bottlecap of water pinched between his fingers. He shuffled over to Mother’s web and set it down in front of her, effectively blocking Akaza’s view. 

So much for clearing my head.

Akaza’s expression soured. “I am not sulking!” he replied, indignant and sulky. 

“Sure.” Rui turned to face him with an expression that clearly showed how believable the claim was. Unsettling blue eyes looked over him quickly before locking in on the top of his head. Before Akaza could comment, the boy spoke up again. 

“Your roots are showing.”

“...Huh?” Akaza’s hands went up to his head and ran through his hair, as if he could wipe away the natural black color that was starting to grow out. He’d noticed it, made a note of it in the back of his mind, and promptly forgot about it. Growing accustomed to the growing darkness in the mirror every morning made it blend in with the rest of his life, which let it worsen to the point that even Rui noticed. “How bad?”

“You’re going to want to dye it again,” Rui answered. He fell quiet for a moment, face pinching slightly as he chewed over his own words before continuing. “If you’re going to pick up the dye today, can I come with you?”

“You want to come with me?” Akaza echoed, surprised. He couldn’t remember Rui asking to tag along with him before. They got along well enough, but he wasn’t one of the kid’s favorites; not like Muzan, who he’d latched onto immediately, or Gyutaro, who’d signed his papers. His brow furrowed slightly. “Why? Do you need something?”

“I just want to see what there is.” As he spoke, however, he started toying with the ends of his dark hair, twirling it absently around his finger. 

Ah. That’s it. 

Akaza let himself smile at the boy. “You’re thinking of dyeing yours, too?” he asked. That made more sense. As the only one in the house who regularly dyed his hair, he was the best one to turn to for it. “Got a color in mind?”

Rui paused his motions and shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see what’s available first.” 

“Alright.” Akaza checked his phone and-- yeah, they had plenty of time to walk to the beauty supply store before it closed. Pushing himself up, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and arched a brow at Rui. 

“Got your homework done?”

“Yeah.” 

“Then go put some shoes on,” he instructed, gesturing for Rui to go back inside. “Meet me out front and we’ll go.” 

Those blue eyes, which had previously been guarded and looking right through him, widened in a rare display of excitement. Rui didn’t hesitate to rush back inside, leaving the door wide open behind him. 

“Oi! The door-- ah, fuck it.” Akaza sighed, walking over to close the door where Rui had neglected to. Glancing over at Mother in her web, he saw her eyes looking up at him, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. 

“Kids, right?” 

She’d been through a few cycles of her own by then. He knew that she understood. 

In response, Mother stared for a few seconds more before crawling down to drink the water Rui had left for her. Taking that as his cue to leave, Akaza gave her a little wave and went around the house to meet the boy up front. Hopefully, he’d be able to find something that he liked. 

The worst part of any beauty supply store was the smell. The scents of perfumes and sprays and hair care products all clashed in a battle to overpower one another, making the place an olfactory hell. On more than one occasion, Akaza had considered just ordering his dye online to avoid having to go inside, but he’d be damned if he paid more for shipping than the item itself cost! Subjecting himself to an asthmatic’s worst nightmare once a month or so was worth the money saved, especially when he was quick to grab what he needed and go. 

This would be different. Rui needed to browse, so there was no easy in and out. As a precaution, Akaza brought along a mask to somewhat diminish the effects of all of the scents in the store. When he put it on, Rui gave him an odd look, but a nod and a gesture forward later and it was forgotten. 

He led them straight to the aisle where his own dye was kept-- Demon Blood: Rose , it was called -- and, after grabbing what he needed, gestured around the aisle. “Take a look around. I’d recommend something from this brand-” He held up his box to show off the logo. “-but as long as you don’t pick up something from Wisteria , you should be fine.”

Rui, who was already scanning through the colors, cocked his head. “Why not?”

“It makes your skin break out and your scalp will itch for days.” It was a mistake he’d made while first exploring who Akaza would be. The shade of purple he’d experimented with was nice, but nowhere near worth the trouble it caused. 

Humming in acknowledgement, Rui went back to browsing through the colors before-

“ Rui?”

They both turned towards the new voice, and the sight of the owner made Akaza’s heart skip a handful of beats. 

Standing at the end of the aisle was a young boy around Rui’s age. They had the same slight build, rose to about the same height, but the newcomer had much more vibrant features. Despite the soft shape of his face, his eyes held a bright flame, and his shock of blond hair was reminiscent of someone very familiar. 

He was like a miniature version of that guy!

Immediately, Rui straightened up. “Senjuro?”

A small smile spread across the boy’s-- Senjuro’s -- face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He took a step forward, as if to come down the aisle and greet him, but hesitated. “Oh, hold on a second!”

He darted off to the side for a second-- hardly long enough for Akaza to process that he was gone-- before he returned to the mouth of the aisle with someone else in tow. His small hand was wrapped around someone’s wrist, insistently pulling them over, and the moment he was in sight, Akaza’s heart stopped. 

There he was, in all of his glory, standing in front of him: the guy from his criminology class. He was tall-- taller than Akaza had expected-- but just as inviting. There was a smile plastered on his face as he was dragged down the aisle, and Akaza couldn’t help but notice how his hair waved like tongues of flame in the wind. 

Fuck. He was not prepared for this! 

The pair stopped a short distance from them, Senjuro dropping his wrist in favor of gesturing between them. “This is my brother, Kyojuro. And, Kyojuro-” He looked up at his brother directly as he addressed him. “This is my friend, Rui. The one I’ve told you about.”

Rui bowed his head slightly in greeting. “It’s good to meet you.” 

“Ah!” Kyojuro beamed and returned the small gesture pleasantly. “It’s good to finally meet you, as well! I’ve heard a lot about you!” 

Rui blinked, a faint redness creeping up to color pale cheeks. “Oh?”

Kyojuro laughed. It was a booming sound that seemed to shake the world, and Akaza quite liked how it sounded. “All good things, don’t worry!”

That reassurance didn’t do much to calm the boys; in fact, Senjuro began to sport a similar hue in response. If Akaza had been of a clearer mind, he might have found the opening to tease Rui about it-- was this a crush? -- but his words fell short. 

If it was a crush, he couldn’t blame the kid in the slightest; not when Akaza was so enthralled by the elder of the brothers, as well. 

“ Kyojuro …” Senjuro protested, earning another fond laugh from his brother. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, though it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. He then looked at Akaza, met his eyes, and sent that deadly smile in his direction, instead. “And I don’t believe I caught your name?”

“Akaza,” he replied, giving a small bow of his own in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyojuro.”

Rather than return the gesture, Kyojuro simply looked at him expectantly with those gorgeous eyes. The staring was almost unsettling, and it made Akaza hesitate. Had he said something wrong…? 

Eyes widening in some dawning realization, Senjuro tugged on his brother’s sleeve to regain his attention. “He responded. His name is Akaza.”

“Ah!” Kyojuro shook his head. “Apologies, Aza! Could I ask you to lower your mask for me?”

Akaza paused. Lower his mask? And- Aza? Was that a nickname? It seemed pointless to form a diminutive of an already short name. His confusion must have been palpable, for Kyojuro was quick to continue. 

“Forgive me. I have trouble hearing, and these only do so much.” He tucked his hair behind his ear to show off a device hooked around it. “If I could read your lips as well, it would make this much easier for both of us!”

A hearing aid. Oh. That explained much about him, from the volume with which he spoke to the accidental butchering of his name. 

“It’s no trouble,” Akaza replied as he took the mask off, only then realizing that Kyojuro probably hadn’t heard that correctly, either. Once the mask was off, he tucked it into his pocket and fought the urge to choke with his first unfiltered breath. This place really did smell terrible…

But he would survive. Speaking to Kyojuro, no matter his ill-preparedness, was worth the tightness in his chest that came from inhaling perfumes. 

Akaza offered a smile of his own. “Is this better?”

“Much!” Kyojuro confirmed. “Thank you!” His smile faded slightly as he looked Akaza over, and he could all but see the gears turning behind those brilliant eyes. “Say… Have we met before?”

“Not officially,” Akaza answered. “We go to the same college. We attend the same criminology lecture.” The fact that Kyojuro was the only reason he still chose to attend that lecture remained unsaid. 

“Ah, yes!” Kyojuro clapped his hands together in a personal eureka. “I thought I recognized that pink hair! Are you Rui’s elder brother?”

Elder brother. No, that wasn’t the case at all. All in all, Akaza was nothing to Rui outside of a roommate. The closest he had to an older brother was Gyutaro, who acted as his legal guardian, but even they weren’t truly related. Muzan treated him like a brother, possibly to the point of spoiling him, but even he hadn’t adopted the title officially. Officially speaking, the boy had no family to speak of, and if he did, Akaza wouldn’t be the first contender. 

So, why he felt the need to step forward and speak up when Rui opened his mouth to deny it, he would never fully understand. 

“I am, yeah,” Akaza confirmed, the lie falling easily off of his tongue. He placed a hand on Rui’s shoulder and felt the boy tense. He felt those unsettling eyes gawk up at him more than he saw them, but he didn’t return the gaze. If he did, he might break. “And he’s taking after me, so we’re here to start experimenting with colors.”

“Oh, really?” Senjuro chimed in, stealing Rui’s attention once again. “That’s why I’m here. Kyojuro’s going to help me dye my tips red like his.” 

“So, that’s not natural?” Akaza asked, referring to the flame-like hair the elder brother sported. 

“No, no. The blond is, but not the red,” Kyojuro clarified. “Wouldn’t that be fun, though!? Definitely much less work to maintain!”

Ah. That made sense. Much more sense than him simply walking around naturally looking like a flame deity. Akaza almost felt silly for asking. 

“Hey, Rui,” Senjuro started, continuing their conversation. “What kind of color are you looking for?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, echoing his sentiment from earlier. “I’m looking for something to call out to me. Haven’t found anything yet.”

“Hmm.” The boy studied his friend for a moment before turning to the shelf beside them. Rocking up onto his toes, he reached for a box on the top shelf and handed it over. 

Rui and Akaza both looked at it curiously. It was a box of Wisteria brand dye that showed off a pale pink color, just a few shades above a warm white: Sunset Dew , it was called. 

“I think this one would look good on you,” Senjuro suggested. “It’s pretty different from what you have now, but the color will make your eyes pop. I think. Or maybe… Maybe not…” As he trailed off, the color began to return to his cheeks until he was showing off a color much closer to Demon Blood: Rose than Wisteria: Sunset Dew . 

Akaza had been about to speak up-- to say that it was a nice suggestion, but they wanted to avoid using that brand-- before Rui brought the box close to his chest, protectively holding it out of his companion’s reach. 

“It’s perfect,” he stated. 

Akaza frowned. “Are you sure? It’s-”

“I said it’s perfect ,” he snapped, and that was final. There was no changing his mind on it. Akaza had seen just how far Rui could dig his heels in on a matter-- Mother’s survival, for example-- and he wasn’t about to push him in a store full of scissors. 

Senjuro blinked, lips parted in surprise and the color failing to fade from his cheeks. “Really? Are you sure? You don’t have to like it just because I picked it for you.”

“I don’t,” Rui insisted, though his voice was notably gentler than when he’d spoken to Akaza. “I agree with you. I think it’ll look good. I just didn’t see it all the way up there. That’s all.” 

Akaza raised his brow, but kept quiet. 

Sure, kid. That’s why your complexion is bordering on Demon Blood: Combustion right now. 

Satisfied with the answer he received, Senjuro smiled once again. “Oh, good. Are you doing it tonight?”

“That’s the idea,” Rui confirmed. “You?”

“Yeah.” Reaching up, he grabbed another box of dye-- this one was named Rising Scorching Sun; what a mouthful!-- and gave it a little shake. “Mine’s not going to be as exciting as yours, but…”

“I’ll still look forward to seeing how it turns out,” Rui promised. 

“Yeah. You, too.”

Kyojuro put his hand on Senjuro’s head and gave his undyed hair a ruffle. “I know that you’ll both look wonderful,” he assured. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he handed it to his brother. “Why don’t you get a head start to purchase this? All of the scents in here make me woozy.”

Nodding, Senjuro took the wallet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rui! It was nice bumping into you! And good luck with your hair!” Tacking on a small wave, he left them behind in the aisle. 

“...Yeah. See ya,” Rui replied. He still had a vice grip on the hair dye, as if he expected Akaza to try and yank it away from him now that Senjuro had left, but he let out a soft sigh and willed some of the color down from his face. 

Once he saw that his brother was getting in line, Kyojuro turned back to Akaza. “It’s so nice that our brothers know each other, don’t you think?” he mused. 

“Hm?” Akaza said before recovering his senses and nodding. “Oh, yeah. One hell of a coincidence.”

“We should endeavor to do the same,” Kyojuro continued. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped on a few apps, and offered it to Akaza a moment later. Lit up on the screen was the Add Contact page.

Akaza’s heart skipped a treacherous beat. Was he really…?

“Could I have your number, Aza?”

Oh. He was.

Swallowing down a pulse that threatened to rise into his throat and choke him, he nodded and accepted the phone. He punched his number in and added his name-- his real name-- before handing it back. 

“Make sure you text me so that I’ve got yours, too,” he added. 

The smile he received in response was blinding, and it was a miracle he didn’t need to look away. 

“I will!” Kyojuro promised, taking a few steps back. “I’ll talk to you later, then!” He started to walk away, before stopping in his tracks and adding, “Oh! And come sit with me during our next lecture!”

Akaza felt the heat rush to his face, and he was sure that he was starting to match his hair, but he waved and nodded all the same. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

With that confirmation, Kyojuro finally went to follow his brother, leaving the two standing in the aisle, holding their respective dyes, and trying to remember how to breathe. 

After a moment, Rui broke the silence. He looked up at Akaza, having barely recovered from his own flush, and arched a judgemental brow. “So, Kyojuro, huh?”

Akaza returned the look. That was rich, coming from him. Fortunately, he could turn that judgment right back around on him. “So, Senjuro , huh?”

“Shut up.” Rui scowled, pulling a face terrible enough to make Akaza laugh. 

Patting the boy’s shoulder again, he shook his head. They both needed a moment before going to check out, and this was sure to be one hell of a walk home.

“ And… there! Now you’ve just got to let it sit for thirty minutes.”

“...It itches.”

“I did warn you. But you said this one was perfect. ”

Rui scowled at Akaza in the mirror, but didn’t otherwise protest. He made for quite a sight with his hair slick with product and the added displeasure did nothing to make him look less ridiculous. It took Akaza’s all not to laugh at the way he pouted. Instead, he gave him a nudge. 

“Go sit over there,” he instructed, gesturing to the bathtub. There was only one mirror in this bathroom, and not that he was done with Rui’s full head, he needed to start on fixing his roots. 

Once Rui was out of the way, Akaza started working on mixing his product together. He put on fresh gloves, put the contents together according to the instructions, and put his thumb over the nozzle of the bottle to shake it up. As he was doing so, Rui spoke up again. 

“...Akaza. Can I ask you something?” His voice was small, almost shy, and it struck Akaza as odd. The boy would be quiet, yes, and deceptively calm and dry, but not shy. It was enough to make him pause in his mixing and look over. 

“Yeah, sure,” he assured. “But if you’re gonna ask me to scratch your head, the answer’s no. This is my last pair of gloves.”

“It’s not that.” Rui fell silent for a moment, and Akaza noticed that those eyes that normally had no trouble looking right through someone were squinting at the ground instead. “I just want to know if…”

He huffed out a sigh and looked up at Akaza, looking more vulnerable than he had since he was first brought to the house. It sent a jolt of panic through him and made him freeze. 

“...Earlier, when you told Senjuro’s brother that I’m your little brother… Did you mean that?” he asked tentatively. “Do you actually think of me like your little brother? Or were you just trying to impress him?”

Akaza paled. 

Oh.

No one in that house was a stranger to the importance of family to Rui. He’d lost his own at such a young age and had been thrust into their care in a scramble to keep him in familiar territory. He was envious of Gyutaro and Ume, whose familial bond was strong and always on display. He called that sweet spider on their porch Mother and nearly took off Muzan’s hand for threatening her and her babies. Time and time again, he tried so hard to be the younger brother he wanted to be, but had yet to have the term openly applied.

Rui might not have had any family, but he wanted one. 

And Akaza’s impulsive lie had taunted him with exactly that. 

Guilt curled in his gut. Damn . He’d been so caught up in talking to Kyojuro that he’d forgotten to consider the kid he was watching. Hurting him hadn’t been his intention-- he wasn’t that much of an asshole-- but the poor guy had probably been sent into a tailspin over it. 

Setting the bottle down on the counter, he turned to face Rui fully and offered a small smile. “Well… Yeah, why not?”

Rui’s eyes widened, though his guard was building up behind them. “ Why not?” he echoed suspiciously. 

“Why not?” Akaza repeated. “No one here really has any family, except for Gyutaro, Uma, and Muzan, so we’re all kind of each other’s family, right? So you’re basically everyone’s little brother.”

“Everyone’s little brother…” Rui breathed out, as if testing the title out on his tongue. The longer he mulled it over, the more the vulnerability faded into something more comfortable. If Akaza hadn’t been looking, he would have missed the way his lips quirked up in the faintest, most ephemeral of smiles. 

“That sound alright to you?” Akaza asked, just to make sure. 

Slowly, Rui nodded. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Relieved that he hadn’t accidentally crushed the kid’s spirit, Akaza picked the bottle back up and continued shaking it to mix the contents together.

After a moment, however, Rui spoke up again.

“If we’re all family, wouldn’t that make you and Doma brothers?”

“No!” Akaza protested, frowning over at the boy, who smirked at him in response. 

“No? But isn’t that how families work? If I’m his brother and your brother, then he’s your- hey!” Rui threw his hands in front of his face to block the squirt of product from Akaza’s bottle. 

“Shut it. He’s not my brother,” Akaza insisted. 

Rui wiped his hands off on the edge of the bathtub. “That was unnecessary.”

“Your comments are unnecessary,” Akaza retorted. 

“You’re an awful big brother, Akaza.”

“Shut up.”

“Or, should I call you Aza ?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut it?”

Rui snorted in amusement, and Akaza found that it was hard to stay irritated with him. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he returned his attention to the mirror. Bringing the bottle to his head, he lined up the nozzle with his natural part and began to squirt the product into his hair. As he massaged it over his dark roots, he noticed Rui starting to squirm in his peripherals. Even before he said it, he knew the next words that came out of his mouth. 

“ Hey, Akaza. Are you sure you can’t scratch my head…?”